


Paid Time Off

by babyblueglasses



Series: Working Condition [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Nick Fury is a Good Bro, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony gets to be the comforting one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7185119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyblueglasses/pseuds/babyblueglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki comes to Tony for comfort after seeking out his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paid Time Off

It’s raining outside and Tony can’t shake the feeling that Loki is going to come. 

He doesn’t know why or how he’s developed this extra sense for Loki’s visits, but he can’t deny that it’s there. Tony watches the rain slide down the glass panes and patter against the broad tree leaves that are drenched and heavy. 

It’s not like he planned a retreat into this isolated little forest house, but Nick’s been insistent that he get a break from his routine and Tony finally just found it easier to say yes. So he’s staying here, somewhere safe that Nick found, and theoretically Loki shouldn’t be able to find it. 

Tony could probably use the break anyway. 

Loki patched him back together after everything with Steve, but Tony’s life has never returned to normal. 

Tony considers getting up and pacing, but he stays in the armchair instead, watching the forest floor. 

He doesn’t expect to see Loki pass along the heavy bed of pine needles beneath an umbrella, but watching gives him a sense of purpose and makes his Loki radar pipe down a bit. 

Tony pulls his feet up onto the plaid patterned fabric, catching a glimpse of his watch. The rain fades for a few minutes, birds twittering in relief, then returns to a heavy downpour. The sky gets darker and Tony begins to think that he should have tea ready. There’s got to be something in the cabinets that Loki will like. 

When it’s finished, Tony returns to the chair. He’s barely sat down when Loki appears in the center of the room, covered in a thick layer of snow and ice. Tony’s stomach flips as he sees the expression on Loki’s face. 

It’s horribly forlorn, the kind of deep set agony that will work its ways into Tony’s nightmares and siege him with guilt the next time they have a fight. 

Loki flicks some of the ice from his hair onto the rug. “This does not seem to fit your tastes,” Loki says, surveying the rather outdated cabin furniture. His lifeless tone is a poor impression of his usual wit. 

Tony glances over the predominately maroon and navy room, shrugging his shoulders. “The director said I needed a break.” 

Loki’s brows pinch inward and he takes a step back. “Perhaps I should go—”

“No!” Tony blurts out, jumping up from his chair. He instantly puts a fist to his mouth and looks down sheepishly at the floor. “I mean, I’m fine, Lo. Really. Nothing to worry about. And you’re—talk to me.” 

Loki’s shoulders droop, the heavy furs of his cape turning matted and heavy as the ice melts. Tony comes to him, setting his hands on the cape. He unclasps it as he stares up into Loki’s eyes, heartbroken by the exhaustion and fear that looks back at him. Tony lets the cape fall to the floor and pulls Loki into him, ignoring the wet cold that seeps into his flannel shirt. 

Loki shudders as Tony’s body heat pools into him, closing his eyes and slowly reaching his hands to rest on the small of Tony’s back. Every bone in his body is crying out for his mortal. He sags, sinking forward until he realizes that Tony is silently straining to hold him up. Loki pulls back, rubbing this nose, but Tony holds fiercely on. “I am ruining your clothes.” 

“As if it’s the first time,” Tony says, smiling a little. “Come on, you’re freezing. I’ve got tea in the kitchen.” 

Loki raises an eyebrow, because that is a first. It’s almost as if Tony knew he was coming. “Health kick?” Tony supplies helpfully, still holding to Loki as he takes a step towards the kitchen. “Come on, Lo. I can’t pick you up the way you can me,” Tony reminds him, tugging. 

Loki relents, following him into the tiny kitchen and accepting the earthenware mug that is set into his hands. The heat seeps into his fingers. It has not occurred to him to magic away his wet clothes. He stares at the amber colored water as Tony takes the seat beside him. 

He flinches when Tony brushes a strand of hair back behind his ear, then wishes he hadn’t because the gesture is well appreciated. 

When he can’t offer up the words, Tony speaks. “You’ve been to Jotunheim a lot lately.” 

Tony noticed. Oh, of course his clever mortal noticed. They hadn’t spoken of it, but there had surely been clues. “Were you looking for something?” Tony asks. Loki nods his head. “You found it, huh.” 

All of the old fight and anger that can spur Loki along have left him today. In their place there is nothing but a hollow, messy ache. “I found my mother.” His voice is a hard, raspy utterance. 

Tony sets his hand on the crook of Loki’s elbow. “Not good?” 

“She’s kind,” Loki says. He strains to keep his face together, staring at the tea. “After all I have done, and her eyes still lit with joy to see me.” He bends his head down as he takes a drink, the liquid burning his chapped lips. “I murdered my father.” 

The words hang there, but Tony, Man of Iron, Defeater of Thanos’ Armies, Defender of Midgard, does not strike him down. Nor does his hand leave from its comforting hold. Tony simply listens, and Loki wonders, not for the first time, what he would have been like if he had met this wonderful being a millennia ago. 

“She should hate me,” Loki says. “Like the rest of Jotunheim.” 

Loki speaks with faulty detachment. “And yet she does not.” Loki wants to drop the tea and watch it shatter across the floor. Instead he holds it closer, remembering that it was meant for him. “It is—” He cannot find the words to describe it. “She does not seem to be lacking in intellect.” 

Tony rubs his fingers in their grip on his arm. “Not everyone wants to hate you, Lo.” Tony knows that Loki won’t believe him, but that’s why it needs to be said. Loki won’t look up from the mug, so Tony asks a question. “What did you talk about?” 

“Everything,” Loki says quietly. There’s a finality to his tone that tells Tony to go no further, and Tony respects it. Loki has done the same for him. He reaches for the half-empty mug in Loki’s hands. 

Loki watches as Tony pours water in from the kettle, steam floating past him. Tony’s shirt is stained wet, and then Loki notices that there is a puddle beneath their chairs. Its gone before Tony hands him the mug. 

“That’s a lot for one day,” Tony says. He can’t even begin to chip away at the self-loathing that Loki’s professing, but he can’t say that it’s unfamiliar. Loki hums in agreement, draining down the rest of the mug, but he doesn’t look any happier. “Come on,” Tony says, gesturing towards the main room. Loki follows, and is hardly surprised when Tony continues into a bedroom. 

What surprises him is that Tony starts taking clothes out of a dresser. “These are way too big for me,” Tony says, pulling out tacky Midgardian clothing. The trousers are a dull grey, made out of a soft fabric by Midgardian standards. Tony throws a shirt that’s not much different from his own onto the bed. Tony has changed his own shirt for something dry already when he sees that Loki hasn’t moved. 

“I hate trying to figure out this thing,” Tony says, setting his hands on Loki’s chest and studying the leather work there like it’s a complex machine. Loki’s not entirely certain why he doesn’t lift a hand to help him, but Tony’s more knowledgable than he lets on. The ensemble comes apart in limp, wet pieces that are tossed onto the floor without gratuitous touches from Tony. It’s oddly soothing, caring in a way that it’s not when done by servants. Tony lets him get the dry pants on by himself, but Tony’s deft hands quickly button up the flannel. 

Tony guides him back out to the main room, then sits down on the couch. “Sit down in front of me,” Tony says, gesturing to the rug. 

Loki gives him a horribly snide look. 

“Not like that,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “I want to fix your hair.” Loki bristles, and Tony can see the argument coming on, but he speaks in a soft plea. “Please, Lo.” 

It’s beneath him, but Loki settles onto the floor, and secretly appreciates the way that Tony’s legs bracket him from the sides. He hears the rhythm of a brush before he feels it, Tony’s fist holding the hair in place so it won’t tug at the scalp. “How often have you been you-you?” Tony asks. 

It’s wretched, spending all of his time appearing as his once father. “Aside from Jotunheim today and you, not at all.” 

“Do you think she’ll tell anyone you met?” 

“No,” Loki says. It’s a while before he offers up anything more. “I travel there in disguise. I suppose, after a while, they may begin to wonder who it is that visits. But I do not anticipate it being a real concern.” The fine teeth of the comb meet his scalp, slow and steady. 

“She,” Loki says. “Does not appreciate what I did.” He swallows. He’d been so narrow minded then, obsessed with a reality that could never be his. Not as Loki. “But—she mourned me.” 

The brush stills, then is set beside Tony on the couch. 

Tony combs his fingers through Loki’s hair, fingernails drawing small, circular designs along his scalp. Loki lets his eyes fall shut. Tony refrains from any commentary, and for that Loki is grateful. 

“It appears we both desire to know the other.” 

He feels the brush return to his hair again, in a slow, rhythmic motion. 

Loki doesn’t want to speak anymore, so he drops his head back against Tony’s lap. 

Tony leaves his hair down, and those hands return to knead against his tense shoulders. “You’re exhausted,” Tony says. He waits, but Loki doesn’t contradict or reprimand him. That’s not a good thing. “We should get you to bed before Jarvis feels the need to lecture you.” 

Loki must realize around the same time that Tony does that Jarvis isn’t around anymore. He hears the quick intake of breath, followed by an awkward start up from the couch. “Bed,” Tony says. Overhead thunder roars, and they shrink in on themselves for different reasons. 

The bedroom is quieter, but they can still hear the steady patter against the window panes. Loki crawls into the bed. Tony’s there before he realizes it, worming his way against Loki’s chest and tangling their legs together. He brushes Loki’s hair back over his shoulder and Loki finds himself grabbing the mortal and pulling him in. 

He holds Tony tightly, as if he could vanish. Tony leans in and presses a soft, innocent kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad you’re here, Lo.” 

Loki’s not sure why that does it, but it does. Everything that he’s been holding back rushes in like a flood, breaking past the shoddy indifferences and slights that have kept them in place. Tony wants him. Not something from him, not someone else, just Loki. And that’s overwhelming, it’s more than Loki feels that he deserves, and today for the first time in ages, it’s not just Tony that wants him anymore. There is a mother, and while it’s complicated and new and Loki doesn’t want to hope for anything, and certainly doesn’t believe he has a chance at family again, he knows when he is being lied to. And that woman and Tony both aren’t lying. 

Tony kisses away the first few tears, chest aching. It’s the worst when Loki cries like this because there’s no sound, just a raw wound being opened. Tony’s strength doesn’t compare but he holds Loki as tightly as he can, muttering quiet assurances. 

Loki feels everything draining away, until he’s left with nothing but Tony in his arms on this odd bed in these shabby clothes on this strange realm. And for once, it’s okay. It’s a mess, but it’s okay. 

He feels Tony’s lips press to his forehead and whisper something, but he can’t make it out. He’s drifting, slowly losing awareness as he feels Tony’s body shift and tuck in against his. 

His breathing slows, and as Tony wipes away the last wet streak from Loki’s cheek, he marvels at the sleeping god in his arms. He won’t let anything happen to Loki, he won’t. He cradles a hand around the god’s head, wondering how he can feel this protective of a being that is easily ten times stronger. 

And suddenly Loki’s words drift back to him, from one of his darker nights when he’d told Loki that he couldn’t save anyone. And Loki had looked him head-on with absolutely certainty and said, “You have saved at least one.” 

And well, Loki might the villainous one of the two of them, but Tony could say the same thing for Loki. 

He closes his eyes and listens to the rain and Loki’s breathing, wondering how many times over they’ve saved each other. 

Tony knows they’re going to have a good weekend together without any interruptions from his regular life. And when he returns to it, Fury’s going to think it’s the time off that’s done Tony some good, and Tony won’t correct him. Hell, he’s going to send Fury a gift basket or ten.

**Author's Note:**

> This could be taken in conjunction with In Working Condition if you want, but is stand alone.


End file.
